


Half-Baked

by Heavyheadedgal



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: 1x08 Murder in the Dark, Episode Tag, F/M, extreme silliness, mild implied drug use, the brownie challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 21:13:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5885410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavyheadedgal/pseuds/Heavyheadedgal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack samples some of Guy's fudge, and has some brilliant insights into Murdoch Foyle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half-Baked

Phryne Fisher prided herself on her powers of observation, but it didn’t require expert investigative skills to notice that something was wrong with the Inspector.

“Phryne, your cousin Arthur was right. The Woodcutter is behind everything!”

Very, very wrong.

She came down from securing the upper floors of the house to find him pacing in the parlour, muttering to himself. She was still in her Cleopatra costume; after Foyle’s appearance at her home she’d been so frantic, she hadn’t even thought to change out of it.

“Jack, what on earth to do you mean?”

He put his hands on her shoulders. “Don’t you see, Phryne? It’s the only rational explanation! _He’s_ responsible!”

“Foyle??” asked Phryne, utterly bemused by his manner.

“No, not Foyle!” Jack waved his hands dismissively. “Foyle’s just a cover story. A smokescreen. The Woodcutter is the real leader of this plot!”

Her normally reticent Inspector was speaking very rapidly. His eyes were glassy, and his pupils dilated. More concerning was the fact that he was calling her Phryne.

“Jack—“

“That’s why Foyle wouldn’t tell you were your sister is –he can’t tell you, because he doesn’t know! He’s just a patsy, Phryne! He came here to keep us from finding the real killer!”

“Jack,” Phryne said firmly. “Have you eaten anything recently?”

Jack glared at her. “For god’s sake, Phryne, there’s no time to think about food. All I’ve had is a few pieces of Guy’s fudge. Have you called Collins yet?”

“What--?”

“Get Collins on the phone and tell him I’ve uncovered a conspiracy. I’m going to get something to eat, I’m bloody starving...” Still muttering, he turned and marched towards the kitchen.

“That’s what I was afraid of”, Phryne sighed. She was going to kill Guy.

In the kitchen Phryne was treated to the sight of a dishevelled Inspector rummaging through her icebox. He brought out a plate of cold beef and put it next to a loaf of bread on the table. He was still talking.

“---the police commissioner must have known about it—of course! It’s obvious. This is a plot that extends to the highest levels of the city council!”

It had been one of the worst days of her life. Phryne decided to allow herself a moment to admire the fit of Jack’s trousers as he bent over, looking for pickled onions.

Turning, he said, “Did you call Collins?”

“No, Jack, I didn’t.”

“Good! He and the commissioner are both Presbyterians, I don’t think we can trust him. Do you have any mustard?”

She handed him the jar and sat as he made himself a sandwich. He began scribbling with a pencil on a page from yesterday’s newspaper.

“There must be a clue in the name. If we rearrange the letters in The Woodcutter, we might---My god. I’ve just realized.” He looked up and stared at Phryne.

“Realized what, Jack?” she asked, with some trepidation.

 “That your breasts look magnificent in that dress, Phryne,” he said, a note of awe in his voice.

Phryne burst into hysterical laughter. Foyle was on the loose, Jane had been threatened, Jack was high as a kite, and _finally_ returning her advances. Jack blinked once, slowly, and started laughing too.

“Oh Jack,” she sighed, wiping tears out of her eyes. “I am going to fix us both some cocoa, and then put you to bed on the sofa in the parlour. I dearly hope you remember this conversation in the morning.” She stood, and moved to the stove.

“Phryne,” Jack said, grabbing her hand. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you, or Jane.” He paused, and Phryne felt her heart thump with affection for him. “Or Miss Williams,” he continued. “Or Mr. Butler. I don’t really care what happens to Bert, though.”

She laughed again and kissed him softly on the cheek. “I guess we can always try giving Foyle some of Guy’s fudge.”

**Author's Note:**

> This might be more than a little inspired by a roommate I had, who believed in Reptiloids...


End file.
